


Wish

by moolktea



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Crack, F/F, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, nero propaganda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 04:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18652666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moolktea/pseuds/moolktea
Summary: It's Nero's birthday, and his plans are to lay in bed, relax, and sleep. Unfortunately, Dante and a giant octopus tentacle demon terrorizing the city have other plans for him, and Nero can't decide which one of the two is worse.





	Wish

**Author's Note:**

> spardaweek day tWO....am probably not gonna end up doing the whole week cuz i hav many...other things to attend to but.. flUFF..  
> Prompts: Happy Birthday, Outdoor Fun, FIGHT!, Tentacles

Nero’s birthday begins with a phone call.

The devil-hunting business stops for no one, not even exhausted, hungover, quarter-demon birthday boys, it would seem. 

“Devil May Cry,” he mumbles sleepily into the phone, rubbing at his eyes with his recently restored right hand, stifling back a yawn.

“Hey, kid.”

Nero hangs up.

Five minutes later, the phone rings again, and Nero snatches it up with much more vitriol than before, irritation sparking him wide awake. 

“Dante. You have thirty seconds to explain why you’re calling me at six in the fucking morning when you are the one responsible for about ninety percent of my pain.”

“What, your ass still hasn’t--”

_ “Not that!”  _

He hears Dante chuckle on the other end, low and deep, and Nero squints at the clock next to his bedside. The man has twenty seconds left before Nero hangs up again, disconnects his phone, and sleeps the rest of his headache off.

“Okay, okay. For real. Got a job for us, kid. Trish and Lady are handling some kind of long-distance mission, so it’s been just me. Thought I’d take the opportunity to spend some quality time with the birthday boy.”

And of course, Dante’s idea of a proper birthday celebration was to run around town, chasing down whatever the demon of the week happened to be. Very traditional of him, actually. 

Nero is considering just hanging up anyway, but Dante goes quiet, and Nero instantly visualizes the look that the older man is almost certainly giving him through the phone. It’s terrible, even more so because Nero can never say no to Dante when he turns the modicum amount of charm that he possesses up. 

“Stop that,” Nero snaps, quite ridiculously, considering he technically can’t even see Dante’s face right now.

“Hm?”

The old bastard knows what he’s doing, Nero is almost completely sure of it. 

“Making that fucking  _ face _ . I know you’re doing it.”

“Well, if you come over, you can stop me yourself, can’t you?” 

Nero pushes the covers off of him, carefully standing up from his bed, running his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair. His spectral wings manifest themselves, and a claw opens the door to his closet, rifling through the hangers to extract his standard devil hunting outfit.

“What makes you think I’m coming over?”

“Just a lucky guess. Call it a man’s intuition.” 

“That’s the fucking stupidest thing I’ve heard you say all day,” Nero answers, his other blue talon plucking the phone out of his hands and keeping it close to his face while he pulls on his jeans and smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt.

“See you in fifteen, kid?”

Nero hangs up for the second time that day.

Fourteen minutes later, he’s knocking at the door of the Devil May Cry shop, his hands shoved in his pockets, shivering in the chill of the spring air. Nero’s always gotten cold easily, but wearing more layers would really only get in the way of his job.

Maybe he should invest in a scarf.

Dante opens the door, takes one look at him, and a second later, Nero finds himself covered in Dante’s scent as the older man drapes his jacket around him. Nero flushes, one hand reaching up to pull it further over himself as Dante scratches at his stubble-covered chin, hoisting his Devil Sword over his broad shoulders.

“Starting to think you come over here without a coat on purpose,” Dante muses, and Nero decides to ignore Dante, mostly because the other man might partially be correct.

“Do you know what the job even is?” Nero changes the topic none too subtly, and Dante chuckles, one hand dropping into Nero’s hair, ruffling it fondly.

“‘Course I do. Some weird new octopus-looking demon terrorizing people downtown. No one knows where it came from. Just showed up this morning and started messing shit up. From what I heard, it’s a pretty big one, too. Part of why I called you in.”

“What, you’re finally admitting that you’re getting old? Getting ready for retirement?”

“Not in a million years, kid. Just thought I’d give you this chance to learn something from your elders. Gotta pass on the knowledge and all that.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Nero rolls his eyes, stepping aside and allowing Dante to take the lead to wherever the location of their job was. “Whatever. As long as I get my share of the cut.”

“Yeah, you can have twenty-five percent this time. Consider it a birthday gift.”

“What do you even need the money for? We both know you’re just gonna blow it all on pizza, borrow yourself into debt with Trish, and then come over to my apartment to use my shower because yours doesn’t even work.”

Nero does not like the smirk on Dante’s face and is very much considering abandoning the older man to take on this mission solo.

“You’re complaining now, kid, but you were pretty happy to be hopping in the shower with me last time I--”

A blue, spectral talon lightly smacks the back of Dante’s head as Nero stalks forward, his back turned to hide the color in his cheeks. Dante, in a rare display of intelligence, seems to take the hint, and merely rubs at the back of his head with a quiet laugh, but manages to keep his mouth shut the rest of the way.

The situation is pretty much as bad as Dante described it, if not worse.

The octopus...thing currently had its tentacles wrapped happily around two cars, and was shoving them into its mouth without hesitation, as if it were munching on a pair of particularly crunchy cheese puffs. The second it actually ingested the car, the metal framework and glass windows immediately began to dissolve into the creature’s fleshy mass, increasing its size by a noticeable amount.

Not good.

“Damn. Eats more than you do, old man,” Nero tilts his head upwards and squinting against the morning sun to try and get a better look at the thing.

“You’ll probably need this back.”

He tosses the red coat back to Dante, knowing the older man had some kind of weird security-blanket good luck charm kind of thing going on with it. Couldn’t fight properly without it, or so he claimed.

Unfortunately, their little exchange draws the attention of the octopus demon, who, upon seeing the two of them standing together, releases an ear-piercing screech, flinging the not yet-devoured car at their location and forcing the two of them to scatter.

Nero backflips into the air, landing on a pile of scrap metal, and Dante settles on a nearby lamp post.

“So, kid--you take the front, and I’ll go behind?” 

While Nero is definitely far less durable and admittedly weaker than Dante is, he’s faster and more agile, and lot less likely to spend too long doing something stupid and ending up caught by one of those tentacles. It’s the safest bet they have, for Nero to distract the demon from the front while Dante flanks it.

“Sounds like a plan,” Nero agrees, wrapping his hand around Red Queen’s hilt, tensing his muscles in preparation for the jump. “We’ll switch it up if it isn’t working out.”

They nod at each other, and then, in perfect sync, they leap forward, barely dodging yet another projectile that is hurled at their heads. 

Nero uses his spectral wings to propel him forward, touching down right in front of the ugly thing, keeping his left hand ready at his sword while gesturing to the thing with his right.

“Hey, you--you got nothing better to do than fuck up other people’s lives? I see you got a peanut-sized brain up in that big head of yours.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the familiar flash of a red coat as Dante swings his sword into the unprotected back of the demon. It screeches in pain, twisting around, but Dante is faster than it can reach, swiftly dodging out of the way as Nero recaptures the thing’s attention by firing a round of bullets into it.

He feels bad for it, almost.

At least, until it suddenly lashes out with a tentacle, long appendage wrapping around Nero’s wrist, and Nero suddenly finds himself hurtling through the air, Red Queen slipping out of his grasp and embedding itself into the ground as Nero slams into a nearby wall.

Dante is in his Devil Trigger form now, and Nero is starting to think that he should really do the same, but between the remnants of the hangover headache in his brain and the new one he’s acquired from hitting the wall, he only has enough ability to roll out of the way of another tentacle.

The creature is strangely obsessed with him now, paying far more attention to him than it does Dante, which is pretty annoying, all things considered. But at least he’s doing his job as distraction well, then.

“Yo, Dante!” Nero grits out as he leaps to the side yet again, attempting to collect his energy and gather enough focus to trigger. “What the fuck are you doing back there? Make a kabob out of this thing so we can barbecue it already!”

“I’m trying, kid--!” Dante grunts out, blocking one of the sharp, claw-like extensions sticking out of the tentacles with the flat of his blade. “It’s like hitting jello--sword just bounces off or goes into it. Doesn’t even look like it’s doing that much.”

Damn it. Nero hates whenever new, specialty demons like this pop up--if this were a normal flock of Empusa or some shit, he’d be happily back in bed right now.

“Okay, so it isn’t working--maybe we--” Nero finds himself cut off as all the air is knocked out of his lungs and he’s being roughly hauled into the air by a fleshy tentacle around his waist.

Oh shit.

He doesn’t even have Red Queen with him--his sword is still stuck in the ground, and it’s at times like these, no matter how much he loves the blade he’s constructed, that he wishes he had a Devil Arm like Dante or Vergil’s that would just manifest in his hand when he needed it.

“Uh, you having a fun time up there, kid?” Dante calls, shielding his gaze from the sun as he tries to peer up at Nero, who thrashes violently in the grip. He can hear the concern in Dante’s voice, underneath his usual light-hearted tone, but it doesn’t make him any less frustrated.

“Dante, get me the  _ fuck  _ down!” Nero snaps as the tentacle around his waist tightens, and he flinches in disgust as he feels part of the fleshy, slimy, cold mass touch against the skin of his stomach where his shirt rides up.

Dante leaps into the air with a powerful flap of his wings and makes a swing for the tentacle currently holding Nero, but there are seven other to deal with, and now that the creature has him in its grasp, it doesn’t seem very intent on letting him go. 

Nero is jerked away from Dante, like some kind of oversized game of keep-away, and Dante is forced backward by the onslaught of the other tentacles.

He wishes he had his Devil Breaker right now--he could cause some sort of explosion and come away with some damage to himself, but at least he’d been free. But Nico had been hanging onto most of them for repairs since neither of them thought Nero would be going demon hunting on his own birthday, and he hadn’t wanted to wake her up.

The last time he’d come into her bedroom had been an experience, to say in the least.

“What the hell is it doing?” He hears Dante mutter to himself, and he realizes, belatedly, that the tentacle is retracting, drawing Nero closer to the wide, beak-like mouth.

Oh,  _ fuck  _ no.

“Hey, back off!” Dante shouts, and actually lands a successful cut in the tentacle holding Nero. “Only one person’s gonna be eating the kid out, and it’s not you.”

Nero feels the monster’s grip slacken dangerously at the pain but it doesn’t let go.

_ “Dante!” _ Nero snaps, in equal parts fury, embarrassment, and desperation.

He casts his gaze to his sword, which is a good distance away from Dante, and the older man seems to take the hint, dashing towards it and yanking it out of the ground.

“Catch, kid!” he calls, and hurls Red Queen in his direction.

Nero’s wings flare up, snatching it blade-first out of the air just as Nero finally manages to wriggle his left arm free from the constricting grip. Red Queen changes hands--from spectral to physical--and Nero tilts his blade down, point first, wedging it in between his own body and the tentacle, cutting it open from the inside out.

The disgusting slime and a greenish-blue ink splatter across his clothes as Nero falls to the ground, his descent towards the concrete only narrowly interrupted when Dante crashes into him, landing on the ground with Nero in his arms in an awkward sort of carry.

“You good, kid?” Dante asks, sliding his arm forward so that more of it is supporting Nero’s upper back, evidently uncaring of the way that the monster slime on Nero leaks into Dante’s own clothes.

“You didn’t have to catch me,” Nero grumbles, noting the obvious concern in the other’s eyes.

“‘Course I did,” Dante answers, a smile tugging at his lips, and Nero feels his cheeks warm at the surprisingly tender moment. Until Dante ruins it, that is.

“Besides, you’re always falling. In love with me, that is.”

Planting his spectral claws against the ground for balance, Nero shoves himself upwards, wiping the monster slime dripping from his long bangs away. 

“Okay, remind me to punch you for that later. After this thing is dealt with, at least.”

“Oh, come on! I thought it was a pretty clever line,” Dante defends himself, and this time, Nero is grateful when the next car is thrown at them, accompanied by an enraged shriek that Nero sympathizes with on a spiritual level.

_ Yeah, you and me both. _

__

* * *

 

 

“I’m never going anywhere with you again,” Nero groans, rubbing his face with his damp sleeve again. There isn’t a single part of him that isn’t covered in slime, at this point, and Nero is in desperate need of a shower.

The smoldering remains of the octopus creature are beginning to dissolve, its gelatinous husk shriveling up into nonexistence, and Nero can’t help but be grateful that he never has to see that piece of shit again.

“Hey, maybe we had a bit of a rough start, but we dealt with it alright, didn’t we? Anyway, the plumbing’s still on at my place for a while, so we might as well take advantage of Trish’s generosity.”

Nero looks at Dante suspiciously, because Dante never has working plumbing, so he’s not entirely sure what kind of shit Dante’s trying to pull, but the older man holds his hands up in a placating sort of gesture.

“Trust me?”

Nero groans.

“Unfortunately, always.” 

The two of them trail back to Dante’s place, which does indeed have plumbing, something unsettles, rather than reassures Nero. Maybe Dante robbed a bank for this kind of money--or made a deal with the mob. 

They get themselves cleaned up and Nero, without really having any other choice in the matter, is forced to borrow Dante’s clothes, folding up his own and dumping them in a bag to do his laundry later.

“I’ll walk you back,” Dante pats him on the shoulder, and Nero can’t find it in himself to object. Despite how tired he is overall and how disgusting that battle was, he’s had a relatively good time with Dante.

He always has good times with this stupid old bastard.

“So, you thought about what you want for your birthday?” Dante hums as they walk along the path, and Nero groans as he cracks the muscles in his sore neck, rubbing at it with a hand.

“A nap,” he mutters, leaning into the touch of Dante’s large hand against his lower back.

“Right. Guess you woke up pretty early.”

“Because of you.”

Dante chuckles, herding him towards the doorstep of his apartment and stepping aside so that Nero can unlock the door.

When Nero pushes open the door and steps aside, the first thing he registers is that his apartment is still dark, even though it must be noon by now, and the three other occupants of his apartment are usually awake at this time.

The next thing is that a very large, noisy bundle of feathers is coming directly at his face. He barely manages to twist out of the way in time as Griffon hits the light switch, and about four people jump out from behind the cover of his furniture. 

“Happy birthday, asshole!” Nico shouts pulling Kyrie up next to her, and Nero feels himself blush about fifteen shades of red at the surprise party that has clearly been set up for him.

Even Vergil is there, lounging on the armchair in the distant corner, a completely blank expression on his face. V is sitting on the ground near him, legs crossed, reading from his book, but he glances up and meets Nero’s eyes, giving him a soft nod and smile.

“Wha--were you in on this?” Nero demands, whirling around to face Dante, who looks rather proud of himself, dropping one of his large hands on Nero’s head, ruffling his still-damp bangs.

“Sure was. I was the only one they trusted to keep you away long enough, how’s that?”

Trish rolls her eyes from her position on the couch, where Lady’s head is resting in her lap. “More like we thought he’d fuck it up, so we sent him away.”

“Sounds about right,” Nero mutters, ducking his head, but he can’t quite hide the smile spreading across his face as he looks at the assorted people around him.

Back in Fortuna, his birthdays had been pretty much ignored up until he’d met Kyrie and Credo, and even then, as the town outcast, they’d had to celebrate for him in secret. They’d done the best they could, but Nero could never help but watch the extravagant celebrations for those higher up in the Order and feel some measure of envy as a child.

But he has to remember--he has a family now, and he’s pretty much stuck with them for the rest of his life.

“Thanks,” he manages, and Kyrie comes up to him, wrapping her arms around him in a friendly hug.

“You deserve it, Nero,” she whispers in his ear, clearly fighting back happy tears in her voice. She, of all people, knows how much this means to him.

The rest of the day passes by in something like a dream, a snapshot from a scrapbook that Nero could only have imagined holding a few years ago. He eats the stupid cake they got for him, unwraps their presents--he gets a free new arm that he’ll definitely have to guinea pig for from Nico, a book of poetry that he’ll probably never read from V, an incredibly awkward pat on the back from Vergil, an expensive box of his guilty pleasure pastries from Kyrie, and a set of specialty bullets from Lady and Trish.

Dante waits until the end before he drags him off into Nero’s own bedroom, closing the door behind him and looking down.

“Thought a long time about what to get you,” Dante admits, looking pensive for once. “Got a lot of expectations on me this time around, since I’m your boyfriend now and all.”

“Dante, you didn’t have to--” 

Dante cuts him off, producing a medium sized box from inside his coat, and handing it to Nero.

“Not sure how impressive it is, to be honest. But hey, I tried.”

Nero looks up into Dante’s blue eyes, can see the uncertainty lurking deeper in them, and he turns his attention to the deep red box, pulling on the pale blue ribbon and opening it up.

It’s...a scarf. 

A very familiar looking scarf, made from a very familiar looking red material, and when he glances down at Dante’s coat, he notices what he hadn’t in the heat of battle--it’s noticeably shorter than usual, like an entire strip of cloth has been taken from the bottom half of it.

“You always like borrowing my coat, for whatever reason. And you always get cold. Figured I’d compromise and get you something that fixes both problems, yeah?”

Nero touches the soft cloth of the scarf carefully, before bringing it up closer and burying his face in it. It still smells like Dante, can’t have been made all that long ago, and the material is soft and reassuring against his skin.

He’s blushing harder than he should be, but it’s almost too much. Dante is an incredible dumbass, has a total of a single brain cell in that big, inflated head of his, and yet still chose to spend so much time thinking this up for him.

“You like it?” Dante asks, shifting his weight between his feet, looking almost nervous.

Nero lifts his head up from the scarf and drops the box, allowing his spectral talons to snatch it out of the air and hold it out of his way as he wraps his arms around Dante’s neck, tilts his head upwards, and kisses him.

He shuts his eyes, sliding into the contact, and they stay like that, pressed against each other for a long moment, one of Dante’s arms around Nero’s waist and the other tangled in his hair.

“Love you, kid,” Dante grins against his lips, and Nero flushes deeper.

“Yeah,” he manages. “Love you too.”

They pull apart after that, with Nero touching his newly acquired scarf fondly, and Dante scratching at his chin.

“We should get back to the others, maybe. Can’t leave them crazy bitches alone for too long,” Dante suggests, and Nero makes a noise of assent. 

Kyrie and Nico had already ingested a fair amount of alcohol, after all, and there was no telling what they might be getting up to without Nero’s supervision. With that thought in mind, he heads towards the door, ready to return to the main room.

“By the way...didn’t want to bring this up before, but, back with the octopus monster...”

Nero turns around, giving Dante the benefit of the doubt, which he very much knows he’ll regret.

“You ever heard of hentai?”

Nero yanks open the door, one spectral claw grabbing the back of Dante’s red coat and unceremoniously tossing him outside, slamming it shut after him.

He sinks down to the ground with his back to the door, a terribly fond, bizarrely endeared smile on his face as he clutches his scarf close to him.

Happy birthday to him--maybe this year, he can wish for some peace and quiet.

Dante's already made his real wish come true, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> twittteerrrr  
> https://twitter.com/moolktea


End file.
